


For Want Of Reason And Mercy

by raendown



Series: Super Idiots [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-06-22 22:40:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15592374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raendown/pseuds/raendown
Summary: He knows what he has done. He's known that they would come for him.





	For Want Of Reason And Mercy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kaiyaru](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaiyaru/gifts).



The gloves didn’t help. Several thousand dollars had gone in to the research and development of a single measly pair of gloves and they didn’t even work as they were meant to. Tobirama clenched his fists in his hair to smother the urge to drag his arms across the table and send all of his carefully organized work crashing to the floor. None of it had helped.

After everything he had given, everything he had sacrificed, all the hurts that he had weathered with nary a complaint, he’d thought by now the universe would see fit to let him catch a break. Even the smallest of mercies would be welcome by now but instead the condition only seemed to be worsening.

His nose wrinkled when he realized what he’d just done, using that word in the silence of his own thoughts. It was the government’s word, ‘condition’, and it seemed that the line between his truest desires and the agencies he had long sold his soul to were finally blurring if he’d started to use it himself. But what did it matter, he wondered, if he were to finally become what others had accused him of being for so long now when all of his efforts came to nothing in the end?

When the government first began its campaign against those with ‘the condition’, it caused a great stir among the people who had once considered him one of their own when Tobirama gave himself willingly in to the clutches of the very people seeking to destroy them. There were stipulations to it, of course. In pursuit of something greater he had given up his freedom, his rights, and everyone he loved. His body had been subjected to unending tests both invasive and painful and he had suffered all of it without complaint because he truly believed in his heart that he would find the perfect solution, the missing piece of the puzzle that would lead him to happiness.

Now here he was with gloves that failed to contain the ice which formed from his fingertips and no other avenues left to follow in his biological research. The project, it seemed, was a dead end. Despite millions of dollars and hundreds of the Elemental Nations’ most brilliant minds all working together, it appeared that there simply was no cure for the condition of being blessed with heroic powers.

Tobirama first discovered his abilities, as all supers do, when he hit puberty. It was his first and only crush which revealed to him the ice running in his veins. And of course it hadn’t taken very long before the people closest to him began a running joke about cold-blooded Senju and frozen hearts, jokes which became mournful refrains when he willingly devoted his mind to helping the factions seeking to destroy people like them. He knew very well what they thought of him. ‘Traitor’ was the least of the names he had been called.

If they knew his true reasons for why he did what he did would they sing a different tune?

Probably not but it mattered little anyway. They might never know now, not when his only way home seemed an impossibility. If he could not stop his own powers then he could not return home and if he could not find a cure for himself then he stood a good chance of being put down by the people he had worked under for five long years now. Life, he thought blandly, was just unfair.

He was watching the crystals form on his fingertips with despondent emptiness, completely unmotivated to do anything but sit and wallow in his misery, when the noises began. Muffled explosions sounded in the distance while the very earth groaned around him. Sirens went off only moments later but Tobirama couldn’t bring himself to move. Clearly the facility was under attack – a successful attack by the sounds of it – and he couldn’t find it within himself to care, let alone worry. Let them come. Whoever it was knocking at the door, it felt poetic that he might meet his death at last at the hands of those he had betrayed for nothing.

Outside in the hallways he could hear footsteps thundering passed, guards and soldiers rushing to the fight and probably to their deaths, but Tobirama continued to sit still. Evacuation messages rang harshly through the loudspeakers and still he remained. This laboratory was his choice, the doom he had given himself, and the idea of dying here gave his battered soul an odd sort of ironic peace.

As he listened to the sounds of battle drawing closer he tried to imagine who would come through the door. It was hard to tell without the war cries and shouting that used to accompanies such displays of power, a habit he himself had pointed out as dangerous because it made them bigger targets and distracted them from defending themselves. He was still mentally cycling through all of the supers he knew of with explosive or ground related powers when the entire room was rocked by a massive blast just outside, the metal door rocketing inwards with an unholy metallic shriek. Two imposing figures strode in to the room with their hands raised and their heads swiveling to case the room.

Both of them stopped when they saw him there in front of his table, small and quiet, diminished. He didn’t have to look up to see the shock on their faces.

“Tobirama?” one of them called out softly and he barely contained a wince. How he had missed that voice.

“Brother,” he greeted in return. “If I may call you that still.”

“Traitor,” the other man growled. Tobirama’s heart clenched in his chest.

“Hello Madara.” He waited but the silence only continued to stretch and none of them said anything further. Somewhere in the building the fighting raged on, other supers exacting their revenge against one of the facilities researching a way to ‘fix’ them. Finally, when it became obvious that his mere presence was enough to shock these two in to indecision, he spoke. “Do it. I will not try to stop you.”

One of them gasped – Hashirama, probably – and one of them slammed their fist against something.

“You could come with us, you know. You could make this right,” Hashirama begged. It was a tempting offer, to be honest, but Tobirama hung his head and stared down at the ice forming and cracking around the fingers of his gloves.

“I made my bed. I am prepared to lie in it.”

“ _Why_ , Tobi? Please. You never told us why. How could you–” Hashirama cut himself off, overwhelmed, but Madara had always had enough words when others had none.

“How could you betray us!?” he thundered. “How could you betray your people, your family, your _self_?

“There is no point in explaining it to you. My reasons are…well. There is no point now. Go ahead and kill me; I’m sure you’ve been wanting to do so for quite some time now. As I said, I won’t stop you.”

Enraged snarls sounded from behind him but what surprised him were the fingers that brushed against the top of his head, sliding in to his hair and gently petting him in the same way his nightmares had been soothed away as a little boy. Tobirama caught his bottom lips between his teeth and fought to compose himself before looking up in to his brother’s eyes. It had been so long since they’d seen each other. He noticed that Hashirama’s hair was even more ridiculously long than it had been before and that he’d made several updates to his super uniform.

He barely held in a protest when the fingers in his hair pulled away and he was relieved that they didn’t go far, tracing the three tattoos on his face which he’d designed to both hide and highlight his greatest shame.

“Could you kill me?” Hashirama asked him. Tobirama gave him a helpless look.

“Never.”

“Then how could you ask me to do the same to you?”

Light flared when Madara huffed impatiently, the flames licking up and down his body growing in his irritation. “Don’t treat him so softly. He betrayed us, he doesn’t deserve it!”

“He’s my brother!”

“No, he’s a traitor to his own kind!”

Pausing to breathe deeply, Tobirama dared to look in to Madara’s face for the first time since they had arrived, the first time in five years. As soon as he saw the older man’s expression he wanted to hide away again and erase that image from his mind. Behind the anger and the hatred was a very deep pain and knowing he had caused that made Tobirama hate himself just that little bit more than he already did.

Something deep down inside fluttered at the notion that Madara might still care enough to be hurt, that the hatred hadn’t entirely smothered the tenuous bond which had once existed between them, but Tobirama mercilessly bore down on that feeling and denied it. There was no going back from what he had done, he knew that very well. Whatever potential there had been between them was gone now with no hope of ever reviving it. Tobirama forced himself to look Madara in the eye and accept the consequences of the actions he had chosen to take.

“You then?” he asked. “Will you be the one to kill me?”

“Hn. You would deserve it.”

“I know.” His words seemed to startle both men, though Madara recovered faster. Anger shadowed his face once more as he stepped back and fell in to a stance Tobirama recognized easily.

“We’re not murderers like your new friends are, we don’t kill people who won’t fight back. So come on, then. Get up and fight me! _Come on_!”

Hashirama make a bit of effort to calm his friend down but Tobirama only sighed in resignation. When he hauled his body up out of his chair he felt a thousand pounds heavier, a hundred years older, and tired enough to lie down in his grave with no help. But if it was a fight that Madara wanted, if it would give him closure…

“Very well,” he murmured. “Brother, if you would kindly give us a bit of space.”

“Trying to protect him? It’s a little late for that,” Madara spat at him, clenching his fist as the fires running along his limbs flared again. His emotions had always been so easy to read in those flames.

Knowing that any answer he chose to give would only incite the other further, Tobirama opted for silence as the ice crystals on his fingertips slowly encased the rest of his hand and crept up his arm. It had been a while since he really let loose. He could feel the power inside him stirring, chilling the air immediately around his body even without trying, and shuddered for what he was about to do. He knew that there was little point in trying to negotiate his way out of this fight. Once Madara got an idea in to his head it was nearly impossible to talk him out of it.

Still, Tobirama refused to throw the first punch, as it were. He took his stance as was expected of him and pinched his brows together when he felt the way his fingers were already growing stiff with ice.

“I didn’t want it to be this way,” he murmured. “But I had…no control.” It was the closest he could give them to an explanation.

Madara did not take his words calmly. Incensed, the older man came forward in a whirlwind of flame and smoke. Tobirama closed his ears to his brother’s cries for them both to stop as he dodged, half-heartedly throwing up a wall of ice to block the fire reaching for his face. Some part of him wondered if it wouldn’t be easier to just allow his ice to slip, to let the fire consume him and end things in the way he felt they should.

The thought was a stupid one, he knew that even as he considered it. Madara would never be the type to find closure in an easy win. If they were going to have it out once and for all he was going to have to put some effort in to this and allow Madara the victory he deserved, a hard won triumph, a proper display of skill from them both.

It was the last thing Tobirama wanted and the only thing he had left to give.

A burning projectile roared passed his ears. Tobirama spun and retaliated with a beam which cut through the flames heading straight for his face, extinguishing them before they ever had a chance to reach the temperature Madara was clearly going for. Incensed, his opponent removed something from his belt and lit them aflame before hurling them across the room. Tobirama caught them in frozen spires called up from the ground then raised those same spires up and threw them back as deadly spears.

Back and forth they traded blows, neither making any true headway nor landing any real hits, and Tobirama could think only of how tired he was, wading through memories with every step and dodge and twist. Despite the years gone by Madara’s fighting style was as familiar to him as though they hadn’t spent a day apart; coming up against it now was like stepping back through time to a place where he’d still had that shining hope in his eyes, still looked towards a better future. Those dreams had died inch by inch in the time since.

Watching the table he had spent hours and days and weeks hunched over go up in flames was like watching the lighting of his own funeral pyre. Tobirama bit down on his lip, dodging behind a metal buttress and giving himself a moment to close his eyes, to breathe.

“Get back here Tobirama! Answer for what you’ve done! _Fight me you coward_!”

His eyes opened again, slowly, reluctantly.

“There are many things that I am,” he said quietly, knowing the other two men would be straining for any sound of him. “I am a traitor and a monster, I am cold and I am wrong and I am not the man that others once dreamed I could be. But one thing that I am _not_ is a fucking _coward_.” Stepping out from behind the buttress, Tobirama strode purposefully towards the epicenter of the flames engulfing the room.

“Found you,” Madara growled, rolling his shoulders. Tobirama peeled back his lips.

“You cannot know what I have faced. And for what? _Nothing_. I have seen darknesses and lows that you won’t see in your worst nightmares, never flinching from the path I chose, and _for what_!?”

Madara sneered, flames rising from his shoulder unbidden in his anger. “You tell me!”

“For nothing. It was all for nothing. You want me to fight? Fine, let’s fight! Call me a fucking coward, huh?”

They met in the center of the room, clashing and rebounding only to come together over and over. Hashirama’s helpless cries were drowned out by the hissing of the steam that filled the room the longer they stayed so close but he dared not try to interfere. Flames rose and fell, ice formed and shattered, and in the eye of the storm Madara and Tobirama clashed with the same furious passion that had always existed between them.

He could see the inevitable end when it came. Tobirama had, of course, known it was coming even as he desperately prayed that Madara would see it too, would have prepared for it, but his hopes were unfounded. The trouble with pitting fire against ice was that most people tended to assume that the flame would win out, melting the ice for an easy victory. What they failed to take in to account was that Madara’s body could only grow so hot before he would burn himself up like a miniature supernova; Tobirama could grow as cold as he wanted with no more adverse effects than the thickening ice that crept up his limbs by the minute.

If only the damn gloves had worked.

Had they worked he would not have caught Madara in the chest with a blast of his natural element. Nor would he have had to listen to the cry of pain and dismay as Madara doubled over and fell to his knees. Tobirama’s knees hit the concrete as well and he caught the other man before he could topple over, laying him down gently and ignoring the weak protests to get away. His entire body trembled with the effort to draw breath past the pain of what he’d just done.

“From the moment I met you, I knew I’d hurt you eventually.” His fingers found Madara’s hair while the older man shivered uncontrollably, his body striving to raise his internal temperatures. “I just…I had no _control_. I still have no control. Five years of research and experiments and I still – look…I’m killing you. With nothing but a touch.”

Hashirama rushed forward to pull Madara from his arms and Tobirama scuttled backward until he ran up against something, pressed back in a fruitless effort to disappear in to the walls around him. When he raised his hands to look at them, the ice was so thick his fingers were nearly fused together.

“I tried to make it go away,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry, I failed. I failed myself, you, everyone.”

“What do you mean you tried to make it stop?” Hashirama asked cautiously.

“This.”

He held out his hands, his heart shriveling just that little bit more when he saw Madara flinch away. Tobirama dropped his eyes to the floor and wondered, if he simply kept still for long enough, would the ice creep over him thicker and thicker until he’d grown his own tomb?

“You – you were trying to find a way to take away your powers…because you…oh. Oh Tobi.” Hashirama’s voice was indescribably sad. Tobirama could not look at him. Still propped in his friend’s lap, Madara coughed until his throat was clear and added his voice to the conversation with a worrisome wheezing sound.

“What? Don’t just say ‘oh’. What the fuck is he talking about?”

Tears gathering in his eyes, Hashirama took a shuddering breath. “He came here for you, to ‘cure’ himself so that he could never hurt you. That’s it isn’t it? That’s why you left, why you came to this awful place. You – oh Tobi. Please. Please come home.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Tobirama said to the floor. “I can’t. I have no more control now than I did then. The ice builds and I can shake it off but I can’t stop it from forming! I’ve tried everything!”

“E-everything?” If there were anyone who know to be wary of where Tobirama’s imagination could take his experiments, it was Hashirama. And in this case he was more than justified in his worries – he was right.

“Serums, injections, DNA modification, gene splicing, radiation, herbal medications, and now…now even my experiments in to technology have failed me. I can’t stop this no matter what I try. Every horrible thing that I’ve done since I left, it was all for nothing.”

“I don’t understand,” Madara admitted quietly. He struggled to sit up and Hashirama hurried to help him. Tobirama dared to flicker his eyes over in their direction and was relieved to see a bit of healthy color returning to the other man’s cheeks. Absently, he lifted a hand to brush at his own, tracing one of the three marks which Madara himself had burnt in to his skin during the confrontation when he left home.

Every day for the past five years he had looked in the mirror and told himself that they would be worth it someday. They were all that had kept him going through the darkest nights, the thought that he might be able to go home and make his confessions, beg for a chance to score Madara in to his heart the way he’d been scored beneath the skin.

“He loves you.” For having spoken so quietly, Hashirama’s voice sounded deafening in Tobirama’s ears. “You don’t remember when we were kids? Before we all developed our powers and Tobi used to fight with me so that he could sit next to you while we all watched TV?”

“That’s – no. No he – impossible. Tobirama, tell him he’s wrong!”

Unable to meet Madara’s eyes now that the truth had been bared, Tobirama kept his silence and stared at his frozen fingers.

“Tobi?” Hashirama ventured. “You keep looking at those gloves you’re wearing. Will you…tell me about them?”

“You always hated listening to me blather on about science.”

“I didn’t hate it. I just never understood it. Will you tell me about it please?”

“What’s the point? They don’t work.”

Even without looking up he knew that Hashirama would be giving him those patented puppy eyes of his. “Please?” came the plaintive whine and Tobirama knew he would answer. What else could he do? He owed them so much and had no other way to make it up to them.

Sighing, he shook out one hand until the ice cracked and shattered then ran his fingers through his hair, tugging viciously on the strands.

“They’re a special nano-interactive material that I designed. They were supposed to identify the super genome and neutralize it so that whenever I wear them they cancel out my powers and I can interact with the rest of the world without risking frostbite or worse. But they don’t. The technology to alter the genome in any way simply doesn’t exist yet and this was the last project of mine that they were going to fund. Without funding I don’t stand a chance of exploring that avenue.” Finally he found the strength to look up, if only to meet Hashirama’s eyes with an expression of utter emptiness. “I don’t have any other options. I’ll never be fixed.”

“You’re not _broken_ ,” Hashirama reminded him in a stern voice.

“Brother, don’t…”

“No, you listen to me. You were the loudest voice protesting when people started calling the supers freaks and the government started trying to outlaw us all. And then you got your own powers and I never understood how you could change your mind _against yourself_. But I do now. So let’s talk about it okay?”

Tobirama groaned and dropped his head back in to whatever he was leaning against, still pulling on his hair. “Talking won’t help.”

“You don’t know that. I know you, you always have a hundred contingency plans.”

“I’ve used them all,” he pointed out dryly.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when Madara spoke up gruffly, “So make another.”

Raising his free hand up above his tilted face, Tobirama looked hard at the way it was still gathering its thick shell of ice. The fingers were all completely fused together now. It was going to take a solid blow to crack it all back off.

“Yeah! Come on Tobi! You always used to say ‘start at the beginning’ so do that! What else did you try?”

“Ev-er-y-thing. What do you not understand about that?” His words came out a frustrated snarl but Hashirama was far from deterred.

“You tried turning off the, uh, the…genome! The genome as a whole. What about when you just tried to turn off what _you_ can do? Like, the cold I mean, when you tried to just block the cold.”

Tobirama turned his head slowly, his eyes wide and the shriveled heart inside his chest skipping several painful beats. “I never tried to do that,” he whispered. Silence followed his admission, broken only by the now fading sounds of the dwindling battle in other parts of the compound. Both of the other men were staring back at him as though he’d gone mad all over again and he honestly couldn’t blame them.

It was so simple. How could he not have thought of something so simple?

“Just turn off the cold,” he mumbled, only half aware of the hot tears spilling down his cheeks. “I see. Not the entire gene but the isolated signals which tell my body to produce cold. It wouldn’t have to be gloves. It could be anything. A shirt, a pair of socks, a necklace.”

“You’re as dumb as you are smart,” Madara growled. Tiny little flames were licking up the sides of his arms again and Tobirama stared at them, mesmerized, while his brother leaned forward eagerly.

“But that’s good news! You figured it out! Why are you crying, Tobi?”

“I already told you, they cut my funding. I have a solution that I cannot achieve now. Everything I’ve worked for is right there at my fingertips and I am still unable to reach it.” His fingers were icing together again where they were still buried in his hair, freezing the strands to his skin so that every shift of his body came with a slight tug from the top of his head.

When the other two men fell silent he assumed they agreed, had seen the same depressing conclusion that he had come to. He was startled enough to clench his fingers stiffly and crack the ice when he heard one of them snort derisively, looking up to find Madara with his face pinched in irritation.

As a super Madara had chosen the name Soulfire for the flames he produced and the way they flared in times of strong emotion as they had been doing since he walked in to the room. They were there again now, rippling up the sides of his arms and in small patches on the tops of his feet in a visual display of his loss of control. Tobirama had seen those flames rise from the man’s skin every time they argued back before he left; somehow it was comforting to watch Madara’s temper boil over, like no time had passed and he hadn’t thrown away half a decade of his life for naught.

It was also a relief to see his flames returning after nearly having them permanently extinguished.

“You fucking idiot,” Madara snarled. “So you’ve got no money here, big fucking deal. You know who else can raise money for research? _Us_ , the people you _abandoned_. You don’t think your brother would shift hell and earth to find whatever you ask for just to get you to come home?”

“I don’t think you understand how much money research and development of these projects costs–”

“Where the fuck do you think all of our equipment comes from? Our outfits? Do you know how long it took that Namikaze kid to figure out a way to fully fireproof my clothes?”

“Oh. I hadn’t–”

“You hadn’t thought of that, yeah. Clearly!”

Tobirama snapped back out of sheer habit, “Would you stop cutting me off!?”

“Ha! There! There he is!” Madara sneered at him in a smug, triumphant sort of way. “Meek and demure just doesn’t suit you, snowflake.”

“It’s Freezeout and you know that!”

“Well you look like a snowflake!”

“Fuck you!”

“I wish you could!”

Both Tobirama and Hashirama jerked in surprise but Madara did nothing more than huff irritably, not taking his words back. Thin tendrils of smoke drifted up out of his wild hair, nearly thick enough in its own right to act as a second cape, and some distant thought in the back of Tobirama’s mind marveled at the fact that they hadn’t set off the fire alert systems in here yet.

With his cheeks flushed red Madara stiffened his spine and thrust a finger in Tobirama’s direction.

“Don’t look at me like that. You know damn well how often I looked at you before you disappeared. Maybe if one of us hadn’t been a spineless coward and just said something then maybe this whole mess could have been prevented but that’s neither here nor there; no use blubbering over what-ifs. Just get your stupid frozen ass off the floor, have some pride for fuck’s sake – apologize to your brother maybe for breaking his goddamn heart – and _get your ass home_. You’ve got a problem. We have the means to help you try to fix it.”

“Wow Madara…” Hashirama gave a low whistle, clearly a little impressed with his friend’s speech.

“F-fine.” Swallowing thickly to clear his throat for a handful of shuddering breaths, Tobirama nodded once. “Fine. Yeah. I…that’s okay? I know what I did…that the others might not want me to…”

Lunging across the space between them, Hashirama tackled his younger brother in a tearful hug. “Of course it’s okay! We’ve all missed you so much and I know the others will listen when we tell them why you left. They will! I promise! And I’ll shave all their hair off if they don’t!” Tobirama grunted but allowed the affection, trying not to give in to the urge to sink down in his brother’s embrace and never come out to face the world again.

“That’s no threat, you’ll just grow it back out for them,” he murmured. Hashirama laughed and hauled him up on to his feet. Once he was standing he staggered under the weight of another hug, this one nearly lifting him off the ground.

“You’re really coming home?”

“I never _wanted_ to leave, you know.”

Madara snorted. “Then you shouldn’t have.” Despite his pointed words he looked much less angry than a few moments ago; it seemed he had released it all with his impassioned speech. Tobirama freed himself of his brother’s clutches and then he stood facing the other man, the one he had left home just to find a way back to. Madara looked back at him with one eyebrow raised expectantly.

“I’m sorry,” Tobirama choked out.

“Hmph, you better be.”

Without saying anything else he stormed across the distance between them and took hold of the fur around Tobirama’s shoulders, hauling him in for a bone-crushing embrace that lasted barely a handful of seconds before they were forced to part again, Tobirama’s ice creeping between them and making Madara hiss with pain.

“Fuck, sorry, I – I can’t help it.”

“Yeah, I know. But you’ll fix that. You fix everything, right?”

“Not everything. I never got around to fixing your ego.” His words weren’t nearly as pointed as they should be, rough edges smoothed away by lingering hesitance, but Madara barked a laugh anyway.

“Good luck trying,” was all he said and Tobirama dared to smile ever so slightly.

Hashirama was beaming at them both so widely his face looked like it might split in half but they both ignored him, all three of them making their way towards the exit. Several of the ceiling tiles had fallen in all the excitement and lay blocking the door when they got there. It took only a single crook of Hashirama’s finger for the door to grow outwards and press the tiles away so that the trio could pass.

As they watched their enthusiastic companion bound off to throw himself back in to the fray, Tobirama paused just inside the laboratory when he felt something brush against his knuckles, his head darting around to see what it was. Madara wasn’t looking at him but he was shaking out his hand in a deliberately casual manner, steam rising from his gloves.

“You’ll find an answer,” Madara said quietly. “I believe that.”

“I won’t stop until I do,” Tobirama promised him.

Madara nodded then strode forward with the same confident step that had first caught his eye so long ago. Shifting his weight and clenching his fists, ice scattering to the floor like shards of glass, Tobirama followed after him with a smile still tugging at the corners of his mouth, hope winding through his ribs like a long forgotten friend come home to rest. His eyes fell once more to the fingers that had brushed his own, that he longed to hold, and his smile widened just that small bit more.

The future was his own to shape from here on out, as it always had been. This time he would make the right choices.

**Author's Note:**

> I had way too much fun headcanoning this universe with Kage88 while it was in the works so good chance that there will be a sequel to this but here's a bit of information on these three idiots' superhero personas and abilities. 
> 
> Tobirama's super name is Freezeout and he naturally overproduces ice from his fingertips whenever he is awake. He cannot be harmed by cold temperatures and when placed in warm environments his internal temperature will keep him cool there as well. He can create and manipulate ice in any way his imagination lets him. 
> 
> Madara's super name is Soulfire and he produces flames from whichever part of his body he needs, hands, feet, mouth, whatever. Yes, he could piss fire if he wanted. After a few years of control practice he's also learned to produce heat without flame.
> 
> Hashirama's super name is Omni and he has the power of growth. If it is alive or was once alive he can cause it to grow and manipulate it. This includes wood, blood, flesh, cancer, internal organs, plant life, and even your Aunt Glinda's real fur coat.


End file.
